The Leaning Lion
by LieselLisaBeth
Summary: Following a change at Downton, the Bates decide to turn their dreams of owning an inn and starting a family into a reality. They've had over a decade to iron out the details in their plans, but are all their goals within reach? Meanwhile, young Sybbie and George take saving the estate into their own hands, and Thomas discovers his future may not be as lonely as he's always dreaded.
1. Chapter 1

"They've let another fifty go from the mine. Mr. Branson was just telling Lady Mary," Molesley stated with concern as he took his seat at tea.

"Is there no more coal to be had?" Ruth, a young housemaid, asked.

"Oh there's plenty down there. But they're not wanting it overseas anymore." Mrs. Hughes shook her head in pity.

"It's only a matter of time before that Slump reaches us," Thomas said with dismal certainty. "You can be sure of that."

"Alfred says things aren't so bad in the south, where all the new factories are," Daisy said as she set down a plate of cheese.

"And the question is… What are we going to do when it gets here?" Thomas continued as though she hadn't spoken.

"If this country can survive the Great War, we are certainly more than prepared to survive a passing economic crisis," Mrs. Hughes countered.

Mr. Carson opened his mouth to add, but the scraping of chairs drowned out any further conversation as Lady Grantham appeared in the servants' hall doorway.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt." She struggled to smile politely around the table. "Lord Grantham and I would like for all the staff to please join us in the entrance hall in ten minutes." And with shining eyes above another fleeting smile she was gone.

A charged cloud settled in the room. Nobody dared move in fear of causing the lightning to strike.

"Blimey…" Mr. Molesley managed before daggered looks from both Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes silenced him.

Unsaid fears and prayers echoed throughout the hall while the servants' slowly met one another's faces, desperate to find one that didn't mirror the shock and fear on their own. Tears threatened the corners of Daisy's eyes as she clung to the tea pot like a child. The question wasn't whether this be good or bad news, but rather - how bad would it be?

"Well, one thing's certain." Mrs. Hughes stood with resolve and held her head high. "We won't find out sitting down here."

* * *

Daisy timidly made her way to Anna's left at the front of the crowd of servants, leaving Mrs. Patmore to hide near the back by the hall boys and tweenies.

Anna quickly released her grasp of Mr. Bates' upper arm and gave Daisy a quick smile of welcome before turning her attention to the Crawleys.

Lord and Lady Grantham, Lady Mary, Tom, and Master George all stood in a solemn arc against the front doors, eyes taking everyone in as the room filled.

"Thank you all for joining us." Lord Grantham stepped forward after everyone had stopped moving. "There's no easy way to say it... I'm afraid this economic downturn is not as fleeting as we'd all hoped." He paced in front of his family, hands clasped behind his back.

"We've been very proactive in attempting to strengthen our finances, but it seems we haven't succeeded." He stopped in the center of his family and faced the servants directly.

"There is simply no money to be made when there's no money to be had." Lord Grantham's eyes travelled through the crowd of worried yet respectful servants. But then he took in the ornate tapestries and rugs, the elaborate furniture behind sturdy doors. All of it would have to go. All of it.

His eyes floated up to the gallery and cascaded down the grand staircase. What a marvelous staircase. How many footprints of his wife and daughters had been molded into those steps? He smiled as he remembered the days when Sybil, who could hardly reach the banister at the time, used to hop up each step with loud thumps, something Nanny was forever scolding her about. It had been so long ago; he'd nearly forgotten.

They were the same stairs he'd careened up and down himself as a child, as had many earls before him. And now they would never belong to another. What would his father think if he could see him now?

"What Lord Grantham means," Lady Mary stepped forward when it was clear her father hadn't the words to continue. "Is that we are not yet in an emergency situation. We've prepared the best we can, and we mean to do the absolute best by all of you." Her chin was high. "You've all done so much for us. You don't deserve any less." She seemed to have been addressing Mr. Carson, but her eyes flitted over to Anna. She blinked quickly before returning to matters at hand.

"It will be several months before we need to make any real changes, but we'd like to encourage you to begin seeking employment elsewhere."

A ripple ran through the gathering as the impending doom was confirmed.

"Remember," Lady Mary reminded loudly to calm the energy, "It won't be sudden, and things could look up any day now." She shrugged and spread her hands with a smile, but this did nothing to reassure the staff. Somewhat defeated, she clasped her hands in front of her chest. It was a near prayer.

"We will keep all of you on as long as we possibly can. And please know that when this crisis ends and things are as they once were that you will all be so very welcome here again." Lady Mary's eyes were filled with mourning as they met Anna's again, but still she smiled around the room.

When the ticking of the grandfather clock in the silence became overwhelming, Lady Mary spoke again.

"Thank you all for being available on such short notice. Please let us know if we can assist you in your future endeavors in any way."


	2. Chapter 2

"I still can't get over the shock of it." Mrs. Baxter did still look dumbfounded.

Though it had been many busy hours since the announcement, nobody needed clarification as to what she was referring.

"We'll manage. This will be a much harder change for them upstairs than it will be for us," Mrs. Hughes acknowledged.

"And what are you on about? You're not going anywhere, and you know it. You and Mr. Carson and Mrs. Patmore won't be out that door until they're penniless," Thomas said spitefully between drags.

"As it should be," Anna chided.

"But there's hardly work for servants anymore." Mr. Molesley was reminiscing fearfully about his days between the times of Mr. Crawley and Downton. He didn't think he could manage road work and delivering again. Not at his age. "They're hardly the first to go. Frankly, I don't know how we've hung on so long."

Miss Baxter smiled consolingly at him as she reached out to clasp his hand on the table. She understood his fears, but was more crestfallen than worried. Downton had been a good place for her, for all of them.

"There are service jobs. The life is just a bit different. That's all." Mrs. Hughes insisted.

"And who's to say we can't do something else?" Anna suggested coyly as she looked at Mr. Bates.

Bates smiled faintly and nodded. He certainly hadn't forgotten their long-ago made plans, but he didn't want to appear gleeful in such a solemn group.

Turning reassuringly to a fuming Thomas, Anna said "You'll find something." She looked pointedly at Molesley. "We _all_ will."

Thomas glared at her, stubbed his cigarette, and strode defiantly from the servants' hall.

Mrs. Hughes diverted her attention to the young scullery and parlour maids whispering fervently at the other end of the long table.

"I think it's high time all of you turned in."

She stared with raised eyebrows and a no-nonsense frown as the teenagers filed respectfully out of the servants' hall, She didn't doubt they'd simply take their conversation upstairs. But at least they'd be out of the way.

"They'll probably all be gone before the week's out." Mr. Bates speculated.

"I don't doubt that." Mrs. Hughes sighed with defeat. Exactly which services would they sacrifice first?

"I think it's about time we turned in as well." Anna looked to Mr. Bates for agreement before rising.

"Yes, it must be well after midnight," he conceded, and the two made their way out to the passage.

The pair had already lit a lamp to walk with and were putting on their outdoor wear when Mrs. Hughes caught up with them.

"I wondered if I might have a word."

"Should I go ahead, Mrs. Hughes?" Bates put his hand on the door knob, his other hand offering the lamp to Anna to carry home.

"Please stay. It's a question for you as well."

Bates shifted his weight back to the cane.

"I was wondering what the two of you had planned… As far as…"

"As far as staying or going," Anna finished for her.

"Yes."

"Well we hadn't really discussed it yet," Anna looked to Bates.

"The reason I ask is that I am getting on. It might be time I handed the keys to someone else."

"And… You thought… me." Anna was surprised.

"I'd train you up a bit, if it's what you want."

"Does Mr. Carson plan on retiring as well?" Anna asked.

"I haven't spoken to him yet," she sighed.

"Yes, where was Mr. Carson this evening?" Bates searched both faces.

"Mourning I'm sure. Mourning for the family, for the servants, for this cursed Slump. For the end of an era really.

"Give him some time. He'll pull through," Anna consoled.

"Aye. He will. And Thomas was right. He and Mrs. Patmore and I are probably set for employment until we die. But won't it be mighty quiet if we're the only three here?" Mrs. Hughes turned and gazed down the already empty corridor, her heart pained at imagining that silence as a permanent state.

"Mrs. Hughes, did you know?" Anna asked.

Mrs. Hughes turned and spread her hands with a look of helpless honesty.

"I didn't. Mr. Carson may have, but there's not a secret he's withheld from me for quite some time. I imagine that made the shock even greater, not having been warned before the rest of us."

"I imagine he feels somewhat betrayed," Mr. Bates supplied understandingly.

"Yes. But it was right of them to tell us all at once. And in person. It wouldn't have been right to ask either him or me to walk around keeping that secret." She shook her head again.

"Mrs. Hughes… It will be alright." Anna rubbed Mrs. Hughes arm, not caring about risking disresepect.

"Well of course it will," she smiled. "It always is. But it'll be different. There's no denying that." She took the hand caressing her arm, patted it motherly, and mournfully walked away.

"Let me know what you've decided in the morning," she told the staircase.

* * *

_A/N - We're getting all the background info at the moment, and that can feel somewhat stagnant (maybe it's because I read it a million times before posting.) But I do solemnly swear (that I am up to no good) and that our story will zone in on our most beloved wedded couple very shortly. Thank you so much for reading!_


	3. Chapter 3

John bolted the door to the cottage and set the small lamp on the table as Anna went to put the kettle on. The two had made small talk about the starry, inky sky above the frosted February grounds and Master George's growing interest in politics during the easy stroll home, not wanting to discuss private matters for the cool night breeze and anyone who might also be strolling in it to hear.

"Well that was quite a surprise, wasn't it?" Anna said brightly when she heard the chink of the bolt.

"The end of Downton or Mrs. Hughes suggesting you be Housekeeper?"

"Both really." Anna faced John with a sigh. "I can't take Mrs. Hughes' job. She needs to stay as long as she's able."

"It was kind of her to make sure we'd be looked after," John said as he removed his outdoor wear.

Anna joined him at the coat rack.

"But she needn't worry about us. We've got plans." The corners of Anna's mouth stretched upward smugly.

"Plans we've been putting off for quite some time." John's eyes shone.

"And suppose they release all the valets and ladies maids and keep just the housekeeper?" Anna said rather contemptuously.

"But suppose she and Mr. Carson retire together?" John smiled mischievously as he took his seat at the cozy table.

"What, so those two get to ride off into the sunset while you, me, and Mrs. Patmore get stuck cleaning and running the whole of Downton by ourselves, is that it?" Anna took her seat opposite him in the intimate bronze glow. "Or are you suggesting it be me, Mrs. Patmore, and Mr. Molesley?" she teased. They listened to the wind lightly call its greetings from outside the door.

"Are you alright with it?" Anna's forehead creased.

"I am much more than alright as long as I have you," John reached for her hand across the table. "And there are certain… limitations… of life in service." He stroked her thumb.

Anna returned his sultry look with a coy smile, but this conversation wasn't quite over.

"Do you think she asked Miss Baxter? I dare say she and Mr. Molesley won't want to be separated." Anna was amused.

"I wonder why they don't make it official." John looked thoughtful as he searched his memories for something Molesley might've mentioned.

"I think the poor man is afraid to acknowledge having something good in his life. Afraid that if he does, it'll disappear."

"How very sad." But John knew it was true.

"Did you suspect?" Anna asked when the whistle of the kettle brought the two out of their reverie.

"I don't think there's much left to 'suspect' where Molesely and Miss Baxter are concerned." John gave an embarrassed cough.

Anna giggled. "No, silly. I mean about Downton." She clarified with a note of seriousness. Leaving the tea to steep, she returned to the table.

"Lord Grantham did mention something rather coded several times. But I thought he was referencing raising goats or selling furniture or cars or… I never thought they'd lose it all." His eyelids fluttered in disbelief.

"And poor Mr. Carson. How could he not have known?" Anna's heart melted at the thought of what he must be feeling.

"He'll be as put out as the Crawleys when this is all finished. He takes such pride in his work."

Anna shook her head as she stood.

"Whatever will they do?"

The floor creaked grumpily, as though it would rather she were asleep at this time of night instead of plodding across it making tea. A tingling happiness took hold in Anna's core as she collected two of the blue-flowered cups and saucers from the set passed down from John's mother. The sensation bubbled and grew, sending excitement and joy in golden waves through her heart and to the tips of her fingers and toes like internal, hopeful sunlight.

Her hands may have been pouring tea, but Anna's mind was gazing at a perfect, quaint cottage inn on the corner across from an equally quaint pub with an aromatic bakery next door in a charming hamlet near a river. Everything was perfect, surreal even, the way that future's promises are always picturesque through the rose-colored glasses of hope.

Anna was absolutely giddy by the time she'd plopped back down in her seat.

"I feel I should be more upset about this, but I just can't manage it. Not when I know I'm going to be happy with you."

John hadn't seen such a youthful, gleeful glow from his wonderful wife in many years. He smiled as he remembered their very first late night they'd dreamed of the future, their shared future together.

"We'll have to be more reserved about our joy whilst around the others."

"Yes," Anna sighed. "I suspect we will."

She pulled her chair close and leaned over the table until the steam floating up from her tea wound its way around her cheekbones.

"We've got plans to make, you and I." But her eyes suggested a plan that would make them happier in the more immediate future.

"I thought we already had plans." He leaned in to meet her eye level, his lips only inches from hers. "You and I."

"Remind me then." She straightened and sipped her tea, keeping a pleasant, unblinking gaze locked with her husband. She sat as expectantly as a child awaiting a favorite bedtime story.

"Right now," John smiled at her insistence, "My plans are to share a lovely cup of tea with my wonderful wife. In the morning, I and my wonderful wife will tell our employers we plan to leave as soon as we can get settled elsewhere. I shall then visit with those same employers about a possible day off for looking at prospective inns." John took a moment to enjoy his tea.

"Where should we go?" Anna brimmed with excitement.

"With all Thomas's talk about the slump, you'd think England was as bad off as Germany or America, but he's got it wrong. We'll be fine so long as we avoid the mining towns."

"But I reckon Alfred might be right in that letter to Daisy. I really do relish the idea of staying near everyone, staying here, but I think we'd better head south."

"Do you know… We may have enough saved to buy an inn without selling the house, a modest inn at least."

"And we could keep renting. In case business is a slow start."

"You've read my mind," he sighed.

"Good. Now maybe you can read mine." Leaving the half-finished tea still steaming on the table, Anna gracefully stood, caressed her lover's hand with both her own, and led him to the first of many good things ahead.

* * *

_A/N - I'll freely admit I have a little trouble writing Bates because I don't understand him as well. In the actual show (S4), he keeps surprising me. (Polite for I'm currently finding Fellowes' writing of him a little inconsistent.) And of course, prison does change a person. But I very much enjoyed who Bates was in S1, and I felt that character was consistent, so that's the version of Bates in this story._


	4. Chapter 4

A/N - I got some unexpectedly nice reviews from you after the last chapter. It seems I'm actually entertaining some of you. I hope I can keep that up! Thanks for rolling with me on occasional imperfections. Thanks for reading everyone!

Already the savory aroma of sausage permeated the downstairs corridor and danced with the sounds of scraping, clanking, and Mrs. Patmore's shouting that were ever present in the kitchen. Mr. Carson glided through the downstairs corridor resolutely, a man valiantly keeping up all pretense of normalcy despite the pang of impending doom in his gut and his inexplicable injury of pride. He made his way to his butler's pantry, nodding grimly at Anna as he passed and shutting the door behind him.

Anna's heart went out to the man. She paused for a second as the waves of his grief washed over her. She wished there were something she could do, but the approaching tinkling of Mrs. Hughes' keys reminded her she had an agenda this morning. She met the housekeeper at the bottom of the servants' staircase.

"Good morning, Mrs. Hughes," Anna greeted brightly.

"Anna," Mrs. Hughes was somewhat surprised and looked too frazzled for such an early hour. "What can I do for you?"

"Mr. Bates and I wanted to thank you for your interest in our well-being. But I feel I could not fill your shoes. Nobody could, Mrs. Hughes." Anna hoped her cheerfulness was contagious.

And it had been. Mrs. Hughes' cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment.

"So what are your plans? Or are you telling?" A near-cunning smile passed over her face as though she were about to be privy to old hen gossip.

"Well, we've always had this dream of running an inn, just something small."

"Oh, that sounds lovely." Mrs. Hughes grasped Anna's hands with the tenderness and excitement she'd share with a daughter. "I'm so very happy for you both, truly I am."

Anna knew she was, even though the sage housekeeper's eyes were no longer meeting hers but were instead travelling the long passageway and gazing up the staircase. One of Mrs. Hughes' hands had released Anna and begun absentmindedly caressing the banister.

_My_ banister Mrs. Hughes dared to imagine. What would become of that staircase when there were no more feet tapping a lively rhythm on it? Wouldn't the walls ache without the symphony of laughter and heartache, toil and tribulation, and most importantly - outrageous whispered secrets brought from upstairs?

"Some buildings are not meant to be empty." Mrs. Hughes spoke offhandedly. "Schools and hospitals and such."

"Mrs. Hughes, if you think that after over two decades spent with me and half of us still down here you think you'll get rid of any of us that easily, you've got another thing coming." Anna raised her eyebrows at the matronly figure.

Mrs. Hughes laughed, as Anna had hoped she would.

"Of course. Forgive an old woman's sentimental nonsense." She shook off her moment of weakness.

"We've both got lives to lead," she called as she hurried to the kitchen.

* * *

"Daisy, whatever are you doing? Waiting for the paint to peel?"

Daisy, who'd been bouncing on her heels and craning like a giraffe in an attempt to see the back door, suddenly scuttled to the cutting board with her washed vegetables.

"I was only checking for the grocery delivery, that's all."

"I see. And are you awaiting the food or the lad who brings it?"

Daisy blushed and busied herself as Mrs. Hughes entered the kitchen.

"Everything going all right in here, Mrs. Patmore?"

"As peachy as apple pie," she smirked.

"Of course. Well, Her Ladyship would like me to inform you that Mrs. Crawley and Lady Edith will be in for dinner tomorrow evening."

Mrs. Patmore plopped her wooden spoon in the stock pot with contempt and began to stir vigorously.

"Oh good!" she exclaimed with mock brightness. "Just in time for half the scullery and kitchen maids to have resigned!"

"Yes, I would presume so," Mrs. Hughes conceded.

* * *

"Of course, Bates. You must do what's best for you and Anna. I'm very happy for you." But his eyes were downcast. His crippled valet would do a better job providing for his family than he himself could.

Bates brushed the shoulders of Lord Grantham's jacket.

"Thank you, M'Lord. I only wish you weren't facing such hardship."

Lord Grantham held up his hand to halt Bates' brushing and turned to face him.

"I never thought it would come to an end, not really." He walked to the window and despairingly gazed out upon the endless acres that would soon be taken from him. "But I was a fool to be blind for so long."

"You weren't blind, M'Lord. This depression is beyond your control."

Lord Grantham gave a hideously mirthless laugh.

"But the death of our way of life – it's been looming for decades. So many were ruined after the war. And then Shrimpy… I still let myself believe we were immune."

"M'Lord, if I may, you and your family have all proved your skill in a variety of tasks. If you could think of this as merely a change, I know you will – "

"A _change_!" Lord Grantham faced Bates in an explosive fury. "You call losing one's home and estate, one's possessions, one's income and way of life a _change_!?"

"Of course it is difficult, M'Lord. I didn't mean – "

"No," he regained his composure. "No, I know you didn't," Lord Grantham resumed his gazing out the window. The view was overly beautiful, a rare, cloudless, brilliant forbearer of summer. His own estate was mocking him.

"But when I think of how I've let Master George down…"

"Master George is a sharp young man who has a good future in whatever he chooses."

But Lord Grantham was not convinced.

Knowing further comment would be impertinent, Bates silently stowed the brush and gathered the pajamas to be taken to the laundry. He slowly tidied the bureau and smoothed the bed, allowing Lord Grantham a final opportunity to speak anything else that may have been on his mind. When he kept his silence, Bates made his way to the door.

"Bates..." Lord Grantham remained facing the window. "Take whatever time you need to plan for your very fortunate future." Though he knew the earl was only angry with himself, Bates nearly stumbled from the force of such intense bitterness.

* * *

"I can't pretend I won't miss you." Lady Mary's eyelashes fluttered at Anna's reflection above her close-lipped, utterly proper smile. She was seated primly at her vanity, her ramrod back to Anna, who was bustling about the room. "Frankly, I don't know what I'll do without you." Her breath caught. Shock coursed through her in a cold wave of realization at just how far the tentacles of loss could slither and twist. They left a numbing sting each time one thrashed out and latched onto one of the remaining pieces of what would soon be the ghost of her world.

Anna laid the matching mauve hat, coat, and gloves on the bed for Lady Mary's morning visit to the village. She then selected an ornate silver necklace with a teardrop sapphire and clasped it around her employer's neck.

"It'll still be many weeks M'Lady. You may even have to turn us out before then."

"Oh Anna." Her voice broke. Tears threatened but were gone well before they started, a mere memory of a child's unbridled emotions. She was silent until she saw a smile from her reflection. "But where will I be without your counsel?"

Though she was touched by Lady Mary's insecurity, Anna giggled.

"M'Lady, it's been _years_ since you've needed any real advice from me. And you're with a good man, one you can trust."

"Yes, but… When I think of all you've been through with me…" There were so many changes ahead. God knew where they'd be living or what they'd even be wearing in a year's time. She'd steeled herself for that, all of it and so much more. Yet still, inexplicably, this particular loss had caught her by surprise.

Lady Mary bowed her head in slight embarrassment.

"I suppose I was picturing you and Mr. Bates still with us, in whatever shack we find ourselves living in." She shook her head with a sigh. "How childish of me."

"M'lady, you will do wonderfully. And if I may say, the postal service is very reliable. And failing that, our inn will probably have a telephone."

Lady Mary grinned sheepishly at her lap while Anna double checked that her hair its usual state of perfection.

"Don't you worry, M'Lady. There's nothing that'll come your way that you can't handle." She peered intently into the mirror until Lady Mary's eyes met hers and showed they understood her sincerity.

Lady Mary straightened and filled her lungs, returning to her standard fortress state.

"Of course. We'll manage. We always do."


	5. Chapter 5

"Are the leeks chopped yet?" Mrs. Patmore was bent ungracefully, fishing the potato wedges from the belly of the stove. When Daisy didn't answer, she smacked the steaming tray on the counter.

"Daisy!"

The large chunk of cheddar near flew from Daisy's hands.

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore?"

"Before next Thursday, if you don't mind."

Under the burn of Mrs. Patmore's glare, Daisy hurriedly placed the cheese out of sight behind the wooden bowl of freshly washed, but still whole, leeks. She winced and steeled herself.

"And what was it that - ?"

"Leeks!"

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore," she replied with a jump to work.

It was all Joe's fault Mrs. Patmore was always having to bark at her, making her feel like a hopeless young kitchen maid again. But it was well deserved. She hadn't been performing up to standard for weeks now. Daisy slid a cutting board toward herself and started vigorously on the crisp bunch.

Joe and his mystical eyes, his bluebells on the moor. She had to gaze so far up to see them. Joe and his coffee hair, forever tousled from removing his cap with every delivery he made. Joe and his strong, lanky limbs that carried his boxes so swiftly and easily. He'd be by soon. Very soon.

Daisy eyed the bread and cheese she'd set by for him, now carefully hidden from Mrs. Patmore's notice between the canisters of salt and flour. Not that it much mattered. Mrs. Patmore had long ago caught on to Daisy's game, though she was kind enough to look the other way.

Daisy scraped the uniformly chopped bits back into the bowl and deposited them into the soup.

And there he was.

"Hello, Mrs. Patmore." He grinned bashfully. It was the only smile he had, and it made him look as though he were constantly being caught reading a note from an admirer.

"Running a bit late, are you?" she commented as she sliced the ham. But she wasn't ungrateful.

"A bit." He set the box on a stool and waited for any further instruction.

Daisy rushed over with her small plate of cheese and bread.

"It's nearly lunch. You must be hungry." She hoped the bread hadn't gone stale in his tardiness.

He met her eyes appreciatively.

"Are you this kind to the paper boy as well?"

"Certainly not!" Mrs. Patmore chimed in indignantly from across the kitchen.

Joe cleared his throat in embarrassment.

"I could stay while you check the order if you like," he offered before devouring half the bread in a single bite.

"Oh you will, will you? How kind." She commented snarkily as she began to fuss with crimping a pie crust. "I know _Daisy_ appreciates it."

Daisy averted her wide eyes in horror and prayed Joe had gone temporarily deaf. She snatched the empty plate from Joe's hands and rushed it to the sink before anything more could be said.

"Yes, well… Just ring if anything's out of order." He nodded at Daisy. "Thank you for lunch. It was kind."

And just as quickly, he was gone.

"Why don't you just tell him when your afternoon off is?" Mrs. Patmore implored. "Then maybe my kitchen could get back to normal."

"I don't know what you mean." Daisy didn't look up from pitting the cherries.

"No." Mrs. Patmore rolled her eyes. "Of course not."

* * *

"Your father will call some of the museums first I suppose." Lady Grantham was adorning a cream silk glove and strolling next to her eldest daughter through the gallery.

"And if they don't want them?"

"You heard Mr. Bricker. They'll want them."

Excited was an incredible understatement when it came to the art historian's reaction to Downton's well-preserved collection.

"But are you sure he'll do it? Poor Papa. He can't seem to bring himself to do much of anything anymore."

A sigh escaped from Lady Grantham as she met her daughter's mixture of concern and disapproval with a look of helpless understanding.

Anna offered a polite smile below downturned eyes as she approached the pair on her way to return Lady Mary's newly mended purple hat.

"Anna. I'm so glad we ran into you. Lady Mary and I are visiting Mrs. Crawley this morning, but I wondered if you might help Lady Mary with something this afternoon?"

"Oh, Mama. Must it all go at once? Couldn't we at least see how the paintings fare?"

"Today. And we'll leave for London tomorrow." With a less firm tone, Lady Grantham returned her attention to Anna. "I'll need Baxter to sort mine out. You'll let her know?"

"Of course, Your Ladyship."

Shrinking under a pointed look from her mother, Lady Mary shook her head in defeat. She spoke detachedly, her poise never faltering, though the slightest heat of annoyance escaped her lips.

"Lady Grantham and I need to pack some of our jewelry and the late Old Lady Grantham's things to sell in London."

"I'll be sure everything is packed with great care."

"Lady Mary nodded her approval and thanks.

"And I'll be supervising to make sure we keep the sensible things." Lady Grantham supplied to her daughter sternly.

The contemptuous daughter resisted the temptation to send her eyes heavenward and settled for another sigh instead. She certainly wasn't a child. It took no skill to sell off your own wardrobe.

"How is the search for the inn?" Lady Grantham asked overly brightly, as though speaking to one of her grandchildren.

Anna was taken aback by the sudden change of focus to herself.

"As it happens, we've had rather a bit of trouble finding anything for sale, in the south at least. That's where we'd like to go. But there are a fair few places up here of course."

"Yes, well. There's a reason for that." Lady Mary surmised knowingly.

"I know the right thing will come up." Again Lady Grantham was reassuring condescendingly.

"Thank you, Your Ladyship." Feeling pleased and suddenly hopeful, Anna started on her way again.

"Anna…" The call came from Lady Grantham. "The strangest thought just… Well it's not strange. It's a wonder we hadn't already considered it."

"Mama?"

Hesitation enveloped Lady Grantham. She tread lightly.

"I suppose you and Bates could use Downton to test your wings."

Confusion bubbled from both Anna and Lady Mary. Anna had been building her skills for over twenty years. She certainly thought she and her husband were capable of running a cozy inn.

"I know it wouldn't save things, but if you want the practice…"

Understanding began to dip its toe in the water.

"Your Ladyship, that's ever so kind of you to think of us, but I'm afraid Mr. Bates and I don't have near the savings to purchase anything the size of Downton."

"Certainly I don't mean _buy_ it. I more meant manage it."

Lady Mary's appalled, open-mouthed face volleyed from her mother to her maid through the oddest exchange she'd ever seen between the two.

"But Mr Branson manages – "

"The estate, yes. But there's so much more to be done with a hotel."

Lady Mary's voice was finally able to dig its way out of shock.

"But, Mama, would you really have strangers stay with us?"

Lady Grantham's next words were carefully considered, and she spoke at a near whisper.

"They wouldn't have to stay with us. We could live in the Dower house. And I imagine Cousin Isabelle would house a few of us."

Lady Mary gaped at her mother and opened her mouth to protest this atrocity, but she shut it just as abruptly. Until this moment, they'd all been in silent agreement, valiantly pretending Downton was salvageable with their backs purposely turned to their ever-encroaching demise. Downsize the staff, rent the cottages, sell the paintings and the cars and the jewelry – all of it an endless series of ploys to put off the inevitable. But it was only smoke and mirrors. The white elephant was in the room.

Determined to embrace change with grace and dignity, Lady Grantham spoke resolutely.

"Downton will soon be available. Keep it in mind."

Muffled, dainty footsteps disappeared down the staircase as Anna goggled after them. First Mrs. Hughes, and now Lady Grantham. She supposed she should start expecting shocks on a bi-weekly basis. Perhaps John was being offered the pig farm at this very moment.

She surveyed the exquisite gallery surrounding her. The rug, the banisters, the archways, each item was its own masterpiece. It was incredible that she could've become immune to such beauty over her years in service. How could anyone grow accustomed to such grandeur?

Setting off down the corridor, Anna began calculating just how many bedrooms were in the abbey. She paused as she began to open Lady Mary's door. Dare she even think it? It… could work.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N This chapter is a bit more choppy than I generally write, but think of it like the actual episodes where they only give us 5 lines and then we're off to the next scene. Happy reading!_

* * *

"You're looking awfully chipper considering Noah himself probably had to row you out here" Mrs. Patmore commented to the bright delivery boy as Daisy rushed to get him a cup of tea.

"Aye. God would need to send much more than a spring shower to bring me down today. Thank you, Daisy," he nodded gratefully as he grasped the much appreciated warmth.

"Oh?" Mrs. Patmore made room for the boxes and motioned Daisy to clear off a chair for Joe to sit in.

"It's my girl, see. She's finishing up her schooling in just a month, and I've asked her to marry me," he beamed.

Mrs. Patmore's eyebrows shot heavenward with surprise, and she quickly faced the counter. "Well, well! This is a happy occasion!" The lad deserved some celebration, but her heart couldn't help breaking a bit for Daisy. She didn't trust herself to meet either of their eyes.

"You... Have a girl?" Daisy mumbled as she morosely brought Joe a sandwich.

"Theresa," he explained as he ravenously tore into the snack. "Our families have got neighboring farms, see, and I've known she'd be mine since the first time I ever laid eyes on her." He chewed with a silent smile, his eyes looking off adoringly. "She was only four at the time, see, but I knew. I knew." He tapped his head knowingly and beamed again.

"And now you're getting married," Mrs. Patmore repeated as though to confirm the bad news.

Joe, looking hurt, seemed to have noticed something amiss. "There'll be no interruptions of service," he said hastily. "I can promise you that. I'll still be delivering on time."

"No. No I don't think that's quite what we were worried about," Mrs. Patmore shook her head wearily.

* * *

"She said this over a month ago? I don't understand. Why haven't you told me?" Mr. Bates looked incredulous and hurt that Anna had kept something so important from him.

"Because…" Her heart ached at the guilt that she had disappointed her husband. She'd liked Lady Grantham's suggestion at first, but once the shock had worn off, the reasons against turning Downton into an inn had began to trickle into a grimy stream of reservations and doubt.

Yesterday had given them another unsuccessful hunt for their dream inn – or really _any_ inn at this point, and neither was in the best of spirits. The market was ripe for buying, but everything vacant was planted in the hardest-hit of communities where a new business would be sentenced to death before it even began, their owners having desperately clung on to their dilapidated establishments until the last possible moments. And nobody else dared make economic changes in the troubled times.

"I never thought she meant it," Anna hissed hurriedly as the small, remaining crowd of downstairs staff settled at the table around them. She'd wanted to have this conversation after dinner if they had to have it at all, but Thomas had somehow gotten wind of the knowledge about Lady Grantham's offer and had decided to enlighten John before Anna had gotten the chance.

"I thought… If Lord Grantham were keen on the idea, he'd have mentioned it to you," Anna supplied helplessly. "Lady Mary didn't seem to fancy it much, and I didn't want to stir the pot." The weak summary didn't soothe her qualms at having been deceptive.

Anna sighed deeply before continuing her confession. "I have to admit, I'm not keen on the idea much myself." She carefully studied her hands in her lap as she finally voiced the true, selfish reason she'd hidden the suggestion. "We already have our plans. _Good_ plans."

"But it would save His Lordship," Bates said loyally as he passed the tureen of soup.

Anna knew they were beginning to draw attention. Mr. Molesley was staring curiously, and Daisy, who'd looked utterly dismal as she brought in the bread suddenly looked as though she'd had a brilliant realization. Even still, Anna wasn't quite ready to let the issue rest.

"And are we to give up everything we've ever dreamed of just to save His Lordship?"

The afternoon's low, rolling thunder had decided to linger into the night, but it wasn't quite enough to cover the intensity in her voice. John surveyed the growing handful of faces taking an interest in their quarrel. "We mustn't discuss it now," he said curtly.

* * *

"Well what do you suggest?" Cora asked helplessly. "We can't rely on selling things forever. We must have an income."

"Our entire lives are here! This isn't just a house! Our children's lives and our grandchildren's lives – they're all here! Everything we know!" Robert was pacing heatedly. "And what about the county? What would they think about the Earl of Grantham and his family living in the Dower house of all places? It must be smaller than the hospital!"

"I imagine the county will be too preoccupied with their own finances to worry much about what we're doing with ours," Cora said with quiet reason.

Robert tensely straightened his robe and took a seat. "There must be some alternative to leaving," he said quietly. He hadn't been able to keep the pleading break from his voice.

"We don't have to make that decision today," Cora said consolingly. "What do you think about renting out just one room? As a trial. Maybe to someone who works in the hospital, someone respectable. And then we could decide what to do from there."

Robert gave a heavy sigh. What other choice was there?


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N This chapter is (I hope) a little smoother and more interesting than the last. It took me a bit to get back into the swing of writing after a waaaaay too long break. Thanks for reading, everyone!_

* * *

John hadn't wanted to continue discussing Lady Grantham's offer that night. Or the next. Or the next. Anna knew it wasn't her he was upset with. It was an internal war he was fighting, a battle of loyalties. She understood what Lord Grantham must mean to her husband – surviving the trenches together, giving him a job when nobody else would have dared hire him, supporting him through that horrible mess with Vera. Of course he felt guilt at the possibility of choosing not to reciprocate when the chance had so readily presented itself. And guilt, for John, unfortunately meant a very lengthy and tense silence.

Not that here had been much opportunity to talk. Having dutifully done their best to fill in the larger and larger gaps, all the servants were doing nearly twice the work they should've been - jobs that were far beneath their status - and the mood downstairs was suffering greatly because of it. And if all that hadn't been enough to contend with, Thomas had been loudly and publicly spouting snide comments at Anna and Bates every chance he got, attempting to unite the scant remaining staff in pressuring them into accepting the offer.

"It's like letting the Titanic sink!" Thomas gripped the servants' banister menacingly, his knuckles fading on the cold iron.

"You know, Thomas, there's absolutely nothing stopping you from taking the reins yourself. Have you thought of that?" Anna said breathlessly as she began her ascent of the stairs with a stack of sheets. She hadn't the time for another spat. "Or how about Miss Baxter and Mr. Molesley?" She nodded at the pair hovering just outside the kitchen. "They are certainly more than capable of anything Mr. Bates and I might've managed," she called curtly as the last glimpse of her hem swished out of sight.

Thomas raised a dubious eyebrow at Mr. Molesley, who gulped and suddenly looked as though he'd rather be getting trampled by a herd of elephants.

"A block of ice if ever there was one," Thomas scoffed as he lit a cigarette.

* * *

Anna had made it all the way up to the gallery when a distant crash and the sound of despair began to echo around the hall below her. Clutching the sheets to her chest, she raced back down the grand staircase in search of the source of the commotion.

"Lady Sybil? What's happened?" Anna hurriedly set the linens on the dining table and rushed to the crumpled figure on the floor, resting her hands consolingly on the shaking shoulders.

"What am I supposed to do?" Lady Sybil gestured hopelessly at the remnants of what only moments before must've been a vase.

"We'll clear it up," Anna reassured in a lullaby lilt. "No real harm done."

"But I haven't got any skills! I can't even clean properly!"

Tenderly grasping one of the tiny, trembling hands in her own, Anna tried to make sense of what the child was trying to communicate. "Come away from this, M'Lady. Let's have a sit." She coaxed the hysterical girl to the dining table as gently as though she were handling a wounded bird.

"There we are. That's better." Stroking Lady Sybil's back, Anna patiently waited for the sobs to slow. "Now what's all this about?"

"I'll never be able to get a job," Lady Sybil sputtered before beginning to cry again. "Aunt Edith has her newspaper, but Marigold will inherit that. And Aunt Mary manages the finances, but they'll expect George to take that over – if we even still have the estate! What am _I_ to do?"

Giving the girl a moment to collect herself, Anna quietly crossed the room to close the door she'd hastily left open in her earlier alarm. "Has Mr. Branson ever told you what your mother did during the war?" she asked brightly.

Lady Sybil looked up in surprise. "She was a nurse."

"A very fine one" Anna smiled. "May I sit?"

"Of course." Lady Sybil's tears had been replaced by intrigue.

Hoping she wasn't overstepping her bounds, Anna took a deep breath. "During the war, a great cloud of worry and fear settled in."

"It seems to have made itself welcome again," Lady Sybil said mournfully.

Nodding her agreement, Anna continued. "Your mother was very brave. She never could stand not being a part of something meaningful, so she - " Anna stopped suddenly and rose as the dining room door groaned its disgruntlement at being moved again.

"Bates, do come in" Lady Sybil greeted warmly. "Anna was just telling me about the war years." She dabbed her handkerchief at her eyes and gave a long sniff while John did his best to hide his confusion.

"My apologies, M'Lady. Only I thought I heard..." His gaze fell on the shattered mess on the floor.

Noticing his discomfort at having found Lady Sybil in such a vulnerable state and his bewilderment about what to do next, Anna, like a mother hen, hurriedly and decidedly seated John in an adjacent chair as though she were settling a schoolchild for his lesson. Leaving him with a brief, loving pat on his arm, she again brought a creak out of the unhappy door, making a mental note to oil it later, and continued her story as though there had been no intrusion.

"You see, she felt she didn't want to be useless any longer, so she decided she wouldn't be. And the next thing we knew, she was off at a training course and working at the hospital."

"But it's not as simple as that," Lady Sybil protested.

"No, it's not," Anna conceded and considered things for a moment.

"Did you know that the day your mother decided to be a nurse, she couldn't even fill a kettle?"

Lady Sybil looked up in shock.

"It's true! But before long, she'd learned to do that _and_ laundry _and_ cooking _and_ all the gritty, grimy things that come with nursing like dressing the most horrid of wounds."

"Wasn't that frightening?"

"I'm sure it was," Anna nodded. "But that didn't stop her, you see. Not once she'd set her mind to it. Nor did having a bit of a rocky start." She draped an arm back around Lady Sybil's shoulders and gave them a good squeeze. "No matter the job, nobody expects you to know it the first day. You learn, just like anything else."

* * *

After sending Lady Sybil out with a last few words of strength and a reminder that she had plenty of time to sort things out, Anna set to work clearing the vase. "That poor girl thinks she's supposed to personally save her entire family from financial ruin," she said sadly.

"By becoming a maid apparently. Was that what she was trying to do?" Bates asked as helped Anna back to her feet.

Anna shook her head incredulously before sharing a small smile with John. It was the first easy conversation they'd been able to have in nearly a week.

"I've missed you," she said quietly

"This Depression has spared no one," he agreed.

"But we're the lucky ones. Nothing's changed for us," she smiled again weakly.

"I thought you wanted change," John worked to keep the resentment from his voice, but Anna knew him too well. She bowed her head toward the fragments of what had once been beautiful in her arms.

"It could save everyone – upstairs and down," he couldn't help pressing the point.

"You sound like Thomas," Anna said bitterly.

"But it could," John insisted as he brought a basin to pour the destroyed vase into.

"But what of _our_ lives?" Anna sounded desperate. "I still don't understand why we should be sacrificed."

"I think we have quite a good life here."

"A better one than we deserve," Anna had reached up to stroke John's cheek, but, hearing approaching footsteps, she quickly led the way to the privacy of the servants' staircase. "But those limitations we talked about. I thought we wanted to be free of those."

"We'll still keep looking for a place. I'm only saying that Downton is an option in the meanwhile."

"But not a _good_ option! Who's to be in charge? It wouldn't be _our_ place! We'd still be answering to the family!"

John's jaw unclenched as his resolve began to melt. He did fancy finally being able to leave service.

Sensing she was swaying his opinion, Anna pressed on. "The economy is hard here, not to mention our distance from town. Even if Yorkshire did get paying guests, I doubt they'd make it all the way out here." She stepped closer to her husband and spoke softly as she peered up into his down-turned face. "I'd be in favor of this if it were feasible, if we actually could save it, but I'm afraid we'd only be setting ourselves – and everyone else – up for failure."

With his tension fully evaporated and his shoulders back to their normal position, John found he was finally able to meet Anna's pained eyes and was immediately overwhelmed by how foolish he'd been to waste even a moment of their cherished time in such a frivolous quarrel. Everything any man could ever want was placed so preciously in front of him, fiercely standing her ground with the enduring strength and passion he'd married her for. The inn had been _his_ idea all those years ago. Why was he working so hard to prevent it now?

"I thought you wanted a family," Anna pleaded as her eyes shone. "We're not quite unlimited with our time on that. Why do you want to stay here so badly?"

"It's not... I don't... We've wanted this for so long." He sighed heavily. Explanations had never been his strong suit.

Anna nodded eagerly, urging him to continue as she lovingly stroked his arm.

"We're already having so much trouble. We can't even find premises. And goodness knows what we'll come up against once we do. I've imagined this so perfectly for so long that I'm beginning to wonder if anything could possibly measure up." He shook his head and sighed again. "It's been a lovely daydream, but... Can we _really_ run an inn? Just the two of us?"

Tears had snuck their way out of Anna's misted, yet relieved eyes. They adorned her eyelashes like Christmas baubles, reflecting tiny sparks of hope.

"When did you turn into Mr. Molesley?" she teased. "So what if the inn fails? We'll do something else. My dream isn't to run an inn. It's to start a family and continue having a wonderful life with you. And if that means we end up in a London slum, then so be it. I could never be unfulfilled so long as I have you."

John seemed to consider something very seriously. "This child you speak of..." He acted as if this were a very foreign idea. "How do you suppose we should go about getting one of those?" His eyebrows did a coy dance while Anna clapped a hand over her giggles. "No suggestions?" He continued in mock befuddlement. "Well," he shrugged helplessly before wrapping his arms around his wife. "I suppose we'll have stick with my way then."


	8. Chapter 8

Tom grinned and shook his head as Mary again twisted uncomfortably to peer out the back of the car. "They know the way. It doesn't matter if they fall behind."

"I know," she said defensively. "But I always worry something will go wrong with the car," though she'd kept her voice free of anxiety.

"Would you like me to pull over so they can drive in front?" Tom offered genuinely.

"No, let's keep moving," Mary sighed with the weight of resignation belonging to a woman much older than she. She had no desire to drag out any portion of this already tiresome day. By sundown, they'd no longer own the car Robert and Cora were traveling in behind them. Nor would they be the owners of the centuries old jewels of the Crawley women – the heavy necklaces passed down from Grandmama, the hooked teardrops that had turned her ears to ice as Matthew had proposed to her in the snow, the very diamonds from her wedding. But Mary chose not to think of such things.

"What do you know of our new lodger?" she asked with reserved interest.

"Edward Sutton. We probably won't see much of him. He'll be busy with medical training at the hospital."

"And he didn't want to stay nearer to town for that?" Mary asked in annoyance.

"He's a respectable man with an income willing to pay room and board. Let's not go around asking too many questions," Tom stated pragmatically.

"And is he to dine with us in the evenings?" Mary shuddered at the thought.

"Would you rather he were only allowed a tray in his room?" Tom teased.

Mary raised a disapproving eyebrow. There were a great many things she'd like, but she knew better than to hope for any of them.

"Perhaps we can relocate him to one of the cottages once we get them fixed up," she suggested brightly. "Then at least he wouldn't be in the house with us."

"We'll have to hire an army for that project. An expensive army." In other words, it wouldn't be happening anytime soon.

"But we only need _one_ usable cottage for now," Mary countered as she again checked on her parents.

"Speaking of the cottages, when's the last time you've seen them?" Tom was suddenly thoughtful.

"Not for a while," she said quickly. "Why? What's wrong with them?" Alarm did a tap dance on her heart. They couldn't afford any more surprises.

"Nothing. That's just it. The gardens look splendid out there." Tom was mystified.

"Didn't we let the gardeners go?" Confusion had slowed her heart only slightly.

"Yes," Tom said regretfully. "The ones for that area at least."

"Well. We'll have to call in Hercule Poirot." 

* * *

Sybil loved the library much more than she ever let on. She never admitted enjoying things in case anyone should ever want to prohibit her from doing them. Attached precariously with only her toes and fingertips clinging to the high shelves, she'd spent the morning acrobatically scanning the bindings and praying that none of the servants came in.

George was seated with his back against the closed door, acting as guard and perusing the stacks of titles Sybil had already retrieved for them.

"What are you laughing at?" she asked breathlessly.

"I can't help it. Every time I look up, there you are - dangling like a monkey in the jungle." He chuckled again. "Why must you do it barefoot?"

"I'd like to see you try this with slippery soles on your feet," she retorted.

"They'd never leave us alone again if they knew this is what we got up to while they were gone," George smirked.

"I think there might be worse crimes than sneaking into the reading material, don't you?" She gave a quiet grunt as she heaved herself up to the very highest shelf. "Now stop talking to me. My arms are getting tired, and we've got to finish today. Who knows when we'll get another chance."

"Besides that, the books may very well be the next things they auction off," George said knowingly.

Sybil was about to agree, but she'd just seen a very interesting looking book, one that might actually hold the information they sought. It hadn't presented itself a moment too soon. She'd been beginning to give up hope of the library having what they needed.

Holding her breath, Sybil wrapped her fingers lightly around the top, sliding it smoothly from its neighbors and lofting it gently to the carpet before beginning her own careful descent. Fighting the urge to tear across the room and shove the title under her cousin's nose, she placed her shoes delicately back on her feet and strode across the library with a lady's dignity.

"Do you think this might help?" she asked conversationally. _Please_ let her finally have found the right book.

George examined the table of contents and shot off the floor in excitement. "Well done, Sybbie! I think this is exactly what we need!" 

* * *

"Do you think we should teach the family to cook?" Daisy wondered as she took a forkful of meat pie. The comforting sound of relaxed after dinner conversation poked its friendly head into the kitchen from the servants' hall.

Mrs. Patmore snorted. "Only if they ask it." She wanted things to work out for the upstairs crowd, but they didn't need coddling.

"I'm glad to see you're not moping around over that delivery boy," Mrs. Patmore noted approvingly. It was true. Daisy had spent a mere day mourning that loss, but she'd snapped back in record time.

"I learned m'lesson with Alfred. It's a disappointment, but I've already wasted too much of life pining after a boy who never loved me back. I'm not going to do that again." Resolution toughened Daisy's jaw.

A warm blush tinged Mrs. Patmore's cheeks as the corners of her mouth pinched upward. Daisy was turning into a wise young woman. _It certainly took her long enough to do it_, Mrs. Patmore thought lovingly.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Mrs. Hughes began courteously. "But you've got a letter in the evening post."

Surprised to see that Mrs. Hughes was holding the envelope in her direction, Daisy hopped from her stool at the counter and hurriedly took it, thanking Mrs. Hughes kindly.

Not having been expecting anything, she opened the envelope somewhat curiously. It took three reads before she could accept the short paragraphs from Mr. Mason as truth.

Mrs. Patmore had risen from stool, a squinted look of concern adorning her face. But before she could ask Daisy to explain, the assistant cook had shot off down the corridor.

With a look of pure glee, Daisy burst unashamedly into the servants hall.

"Daisy? Whatever's the - "

"I've got the most wonderful news! Mr. Mason's brother and his wife have died!" She announced ecstatically, waving the letter wildly as though the staff might want to read it for themselves.

Mouths fell open while confused and alarmed glances bounced around the table as the staff met one another's mirrored faces.

"Daisy, we're ever so sorry... Won't you take a seat?" Anna offered through her befuddlement.

"They were childless!" Daisy squeaked as she squished the letter against her chest. She appeared to have stopped breathing.

Mrs. Patmore, who'd followed Daisy down the short hall positioned herself behind the girl in case she should suddenly collapse. None of the staff had ever witnessed Daisy in such a state, and they couldn't for the life of them imagine what had possessed her to appear so happy at such solemn news.

It took a few moments for anyone to find the right words to break through the bewildered silence, but Mrs. Hughes finally made an attempt.

"Are you feeling quite well?" she asked carefully.

"No! Yes! Of course! Don't you see? They had an inn! It's for sale!"


	9. Chapter 9

The bedroom door opened swiftly after the knock, and a striking man appeared behind it. Thomas worked quickly to maintain his composure at the unexpectedly gorgeous sight.

"Hello, sir. My name's Thomas. I wouldn't be disturbing you, only I caught wind that your watch needs fixing." He took in as much of the medical intern's appearance as he dared without appearing to be staring. The young man had hair like honey woven with threads of corn silk, still combed perfectly into place even after a long day of work, and an easy, boyish smile.

"You heard correctly. Please do come in if you can fix it." He opened the door fully and gestured Thomas through.

"Are you finding your stay at Downton satisfactory?" Thomas asked courteously.

"Oh yes. Even more so now I've found someone who can fix my watch." The bright smile seemed to be a permanent fixture, not even leaving his face as he collected the watch from his desk.

"I have many the odd talent, as I'm sure you do yourself. Perhaps we'll have the opportunity to see more of each other as the need arises." Thomas tested the waters carefully.

"But your time will be occupied with other tasks, other people surely?" His green eyes glittered hope and glistened slightly with the faint traces of fear that Thomas knew all too well.

"I shouldn't worry about that, sir. You're our only lodger yet, and, as you may have heard, the manor grows more empty each day. I think you'll find, as I do, that your time is fairly uninterrupted."

Edward nodded thoughtfully as he gazed into the fireplace. "Will you need to take that with you?" His mind was suddenly far away, his voice quiet and solemn.

"It would be best." Thomas stepped closer, attempting to draw Edward back out of the reverie into which he'd retreated. "My tools are upstairs, and I wouldn't want any small pieces to make their escape in here.

There was a long pause before Edward was able to bring himself back to the present, but he snapped out of his trance as easily as he'd descended into it, his eyes bright and his smile boyish once more.

"I'll have it to you by tomorrow evening," Thomas continued. "Only, I should like to deliver it personally so there are no miscommunications."

"Of course," Edward nodded approvingly. "I should hate for you to leave it in an empty room. That watch means a great deal to me. I'm very thankful you'll be able to fix it."

* * *

"Now you just get comfortable, Mrs. Patmore. _I've_ done the cooking tonight, and I'll not hear another word out of you about it." Anna patted the stubborn shoulders in the chair in front of her until she was sure they were going to stay put.

"Ale all around!" John announced jovially as he served the drinks.

"What's all this?" Mrs. Hughes asked with pleased surprise as she took in the spread of sandwiches and cakes. Anna had even lit some candles to make the evening into more of an occasion.

"We've cleared it with the family," she reassured.

"Tonight, we are all having a well earned night off," John explained happily. "Yes, even you Mr. Carson," Bates continued as the butler began to stand and open his mouth in protest.

"Well, I suppose the work will still be there tomorrow." Mrs. Hughes sighed happily.

"Quite right, Mrs. Hughes. And in the meanwhile, there's no harm in a bit of fun." Anna pulled a deck of cards from her pocket and displayed it mischievously.

It wasn't long before the dishes had been emptied and quite a bit of the ale consumed. The nine of them had heartily enjoyed nearly every card game in the book as cheeks turned rosy and the room sang with the laughter and warmth of hearts much lighter than theirs. Wishing for an evening of escape, John and Anna had been diligently steering conversation away from the topic that had been creating such strife amongst the downstairs family. But with a bit of drink, the horrific beast had become civil.

"Mr. Carson and I will be staying until they chuck us out," Mrs. Hughes announced. "But only because we've got plans that can be ready at a moment's notice," she added so that none got the impression they were staying for the family's sake.

Mr. Molesley's face fell back into it's newly constant position of anxiety that he'd thus far been able to shake for the evening, but it was Miss Baxter who spoke. "We just don't know what to do," she said with quiet helplessness as her eyes sparkled.

"There now," Mrs. Patmore reached across the table to grasp her hands. "Whatever happens, there'll be a place for the two of you with any of us. Isn't that right?" She peered into each face for the confirmation that was quickly and endearingly given.

"So what's this inn called, Daisy?" Mrs. Hughes diverted as Mr. Carson handed Miss Baxter a handkerchief.

"The Leaning Lion," she supplied readily.

"The Leaning Lion?" Mrs. Patmore repeated suspiciously. "I don't know about that for a name. It may as well be called The Sitting Duck."

"Or The Lame Horse. They'll think it were named for you, Mr. Bates," Thomas said cheekily, but for once, without malice.

"And you, Thomas? What ideas have you got?" John returned.

Everyone stared as Thomas took a few, thoughtful drags on his cigarette before answering. "I was thinking of taking in some clock repair work if the upstairs folk don't mind," he said casually, carefully gauging everyone's responses.

"That's very smart," Anna commented. People are much more interested in repair than in buying new these days. You'll have a roaring trade before long."

Thomas slowly nodded his appreciation at her encouragement, whether her words were truthful or not. Tonight had been fun, but all the merriment and rekindling of old jokes he'd never been a part of had also reminded him just how much of an outsider he was here, how lonely he always had been and inevitably would be. Just look at them now – a party of nine with him ever the odd one out, pairing off for their rides out into the sunset and leaving him to pave his path alone. He wondered suddenly if he would ever find allies or even a place he were welcome, one where people weren't so stiff with him but instead treated him as a friend or - dare he say it - family. But as another peal of laughter from yet one more joke he'd missed shook the table, he realized with a morbid certainty that it was inordinately more likely that he would not. Not everyone was entitled to such things.

"Speaking of clocks, I've got a repair that needs doing." Thanking everyone for the good evening and Anna for the meal, Thomas snubbed his cigarette and made his way towards the stairs, soon to be followed by most of their dinner party.

Mrs. Patmore and Daisy had insisted on doing the washing up as a thanks for the evening, so John and Anna were left to enjoy the last few drops of ale in the glow of the candles.

"It's a shame we couldn't talk them all into strip poker," John shook his head and wrinkled his mouth in feigned disappointment.

Anna laughed. "I think you'd have had to bring something a bit stronger than ale to get that going."

"Well," John leaned in. "It's not too late if you'd like to - "

"Hello, Daisy," Anna interrupted pointedly. "Are you alright?"

"I am, thank you. Only, could you spare a moment?" Wringing her hands nervously, she looked mildly troubled.

John gestured for her to take a seat, and she did so hurriedly, the aged wood giving a slight groan of greeting.

"I don't want to go to Mr. Mason's farm," she confessed. "Not without a husband. If I go all the way out there unmarried, it's how I'll forever be."

John and Anna recognized that there was probably quite a bit of truth in that.

"And the farm," she squirmed guiltily. "Well it's not exactly at it's best right now. I know I should go and help, but I feel I'd be more of a nuisance at this point.

"How can we help?" John asked.

"I was thinking..." she hesitated, worried she was overstepping her bounds.

"Go on," John urged.

"Well, if you're to run an inn, you'll need a cook," she reasoned. "And I could take on some other duties as well. I've had my maths courses, so I could do the bookkeeping - or help with cleaning if you like." Sensing she was turning into a runaway train, she stopped suddenly and forced herself to draw a breath. "It's just an offer, of course. If you'd like the help. I won't be bothered if you don't."

John and Anna exchanged the briefest of glances. It wasn't something they needed to think over.

"We'd be ever so grateful to have you, Daisy. How could we not be when it's you who's found us premises?" Anna said appreciatively.

"I know it's not settled yet. But even if you don't buy The Leaning Lion, I'd be willing to work at whichever inn you choose. Honest," she said somewhat desperately.

After assuring Daisy that they were familiar with her hard work and would honor a place for her wherever they went, they sent her off to bed with a final thanks for joining them that evening and again for doing the washing up.

"I imagine she'll come in particularly handy," John took his wife's hands in his, "when you're with child."

The ease vanished from Anna suddenly, as though someone had doused the fire within her. She withdrew her hands and her joy, becoming cold against the spring night and diverting her eyes toward Mr. Carson's empty regal chair.

"We've got so much to be getting on with. Perhaps we should worry about having a child once it's all settled." And without meeting her husband's eyes, she'd risen stiffly from her chair and was making her way out the back door before John could begin to attempt any sort of response to what had just happened. He stared blankly around the stiflingly silent, abandoned room as though the piano or one of the paintings might suddenly give him some insight. Hurt, confused, and wondering what he'd said wrong, he finally forced himself to snuff the candles and walk home through the quiet darkness, alone.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N Hello everyone, I want to guiltily admit upfront that this chapter is a little light on Banna : / However, this chapter is short in general, and I promise that the next chapter is very Banna-centric._

* * *

"It's lovely out here isn't it?" Edward commented appreciatively during a Sunday afternoon stroll with Thomas.

It had rained that morning, but not enough to muddy the paths. The quick shower had e the herb garden into releasing its aromas, and the glistening foliage gave the day a nearly blinding brightness.

"There are many wonderful things to look at today." Thomas had never met another man as lighthearted as Edward. The lad had the wonder and ease of happiness of a small child and expressed awe at even the smallest of wonders like birds' nests and misty sunrises.

"Have you decided to set up shop then?" Edward was genuinely interested.

"Do you think it would go well?" It frightened Thomas that he seemed unable to stop himself from being so candid with Edward. He'd never been so open with anyone before, and it made him feel vulnerable.

"I think it's worth the effort. Especially if Lord and Lady Grantham would let you repair from here for a bit to get you started. There's quite literally nothing to lose."

The men walked slowly down the rose-lined path, their hands clasped behind their backs and deeply breathing the perfume from the spectrum of blossoms.

"Something's troubling you," Edward paused and faced Thomas, undivided concern creasing his youthful forehead.

"Not troubling me quite..." Thomas caressed one of the ruby blooms.

"Go on." Edward urged.

"During the war, I worked at the hospital, helping to rehabilitate wounded soldiers. It was rather a passion I'd like to return to, but I dare say it's a bit of a leap from service to medicine."

"Quite," Edward agreed. "But what you're describing, it sounds like something more akin to nursing than doctoral work." He shared a doubtful look with Thomas. They both knew he couldn't enter a woman's profession. "And quite frankly, I'm not sure those types of jobs are funded now that the war is so far past.

"I'm afraid there are a great many things I've missed out on," Thomas sounded melancholy as he ran his finger along the rose's thorns.

"Perhaps. But let's not give up hope just yet. I could check into the matter if you like."

Taken aback, Thomas was about to give his thanks, but he was interrupted by the tangle of George and Sybil tumbling out of the nearest cottage looking as though they'd just escaped an American dust storm.

"You two aren't up to anything mischievous are you?" Edward asked playfully.

"Heavens no! We're model children!" George said with all the dignity he could muster as he pointlessly attempted to brush the caked dirt and sawdust from his clothing.

"Ah yes. How could I have forgotten? But who, may I ask, is missing those tools you've undoubtedly borrowed without permission?" He sounded like an amused grandfather, his voice friendly and free of chastisement.

Sybil and George exchanged a guilty look. "Can you keep a secret?"

* * *

"And they didn't take you with them?" Mrs. Patmore looked at Daisy quizzically over her cup of tea.

"I've seen it before, there was no use wasting the train fare. Besides that, I told them I'd work at whichever inn they chose, so what's it to me what the place looks like?"

"Well, I suppose there's a point in that." Mrs. Patmore gazed around the silent servants hall. "Where's everyone got off to?" she asked as though she'd only just realized they were alone.

"Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes are upstairs, Mr. Molesley and Miss Baxter are at Mr. Mason's farm, but I haven't the faintest where Thomas has gone."

"What on Earth are Mr. Molesley and Miss Baxter doing at Mr. Mason's farm?" The world had gone mental.

"I sent them out there. I thought Mr. Mason might could use the help running it until I can get myself out there with a husband. They're welcome to stay on after I take over though. They aren't simply holding my place," she added somewhat defensively as Mrs. Patmore gawked at her.

"Goodness. You've arranged everything so neatly, haven't you. Everyone's got a place." The bite in her voice had scraped at Daisy's heart a bit. She lowered her cup slowly to its saucer, becoming slightly somber.

"Will you be alright, Mrs. Patmore?" she asked softly.

"I dare say I will! I've got plenty put by _and_ a room to let." Mrs. Patmore's chin was high.

Daisy's eyes grew round as she leaned in. "But you won't be lonely?"

"Glad for the peace and quiet more like." Mrs. Patmore scoffed.

But Daisy knew better.

* * *

"It's perfect." Anna's voice was a whisper, but it rang around the darkened, musty room, a carrying spark of warmth and hope like the joyful peal of wedding bells in the countryside.

"It's perfect because you are in it." John stepped behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her, suddenly very thankful the realtor had been kind enough to leave them alone for just a few moments.

"Enough of that nonsense," Anna teased, though she was perfectly willing for him to continue along the same vein. "Truly, it's perfect. Not too small, but not so large that we couldn't handle it ourselves. The factories are nearby – that'll be good business. And we're near enough to the university for boarders. It's already got all the furniture, though I think we'll want to invest in some new linens." She twisted slightly to gaze up into John's face, cradling herself in his arms. "Did you see the state of them? We'll want to update some of the kitchen equipment for Daisy. And we might could also -"

But John had gently pressed a finger to her lips. He gazed down at her with adoration, quite unable to turn his eyes to anything else. He smiled at her coyly and waited for her to return it – the mischievous smile she'd given him from under that pristine housemaid's cap the moment they'd met, their first stolen moment, the moment he'd fallen in love.

They'd weathered some trying times since that bright April morning in 1912, vales and tunnels filled with brambles that threatened to capture them and keep them there for perpetuity. John was suddenly overwhelmed with the stark realization of all the tribulations they'd fought through just to reach this day in this inn – _their_ inn, a day that had many times threatened never to come.

And as Anna's face lit up with unspeakable joy and John leaned in to tenderly replace his quieting finger with his own lips against hers, he thanked Anna's God for every dark time they'd endured, unfathomably appreciative of all the tests that had only succeeded in strengthening them and bringing them closer still. Every bit of it had all been so incredibly worth it.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N I'm a bit nervous about this chapter. But this was a thought I wanted to explore – which I'll explain more at the end – so I went for it.

* * *

John had been awake since far before the sun, his sturdy arm wrapped protectively around the petite warmth nestled against him as he watched the room begin to brighten, trying to sort out the racing thoughts competing for attention in his head like bidders at an auction. They were on the cusp of having everything they'd ever wanted. _Everything_. He was almost afraid to get too comfortable with the idea of unburdened happiness out of fear that it would be taken from them again. He'd been beginning to doubt such a life of ease and things going as planned would ever be meant for them when suddenly, maybe too suddenly, it had all fallen into place.

And yet... Something was amiss with Anna, something beyond hesitations about the inn. She'd begun holding back from her usual enthusiasm about their future together and guiltily hoping he wouldn't notice. But of course he had. He was worried, given her history of minimizing things, that it was something much less trivial than she was making it out to be. _Approach it carefully,_ he thought as she stirred beside him.

"What happened last night?" he asked kindly, stroking her hair after brief pleasantries to let her know he wasn't upset.

"Nothing happened. I was tired, that's all," Anna answered easily, though John could feel her body tense.

John rolled somewhat awkwardly to face her. "If that's true, you've been tired for quite some time now. I don't suppose there's a reason for your fatigue?" he prompted gently.

"Not the reason you're thinking." She gave a chastising smile.

"It's just, last time you wouldn't let me near you..." He didn't need to continue. She understood.

"Nothing has happened." She wore a bigger smile this time, one that made her eyebrows dance as she sat up and stretched the sleepiness from her arms. Why was she so convinced that smiles would remedy his worry for her?

"That's also what you said last time," he persisted gravely, not breaking focus with her. But he knew she was being truthful. Anna hadn't retreated into the darkness like she had all those years ago, nor had her eyes gone hollow they way they'd done as she'd emanated that hurt. Things were very different this time. Relief washed over him in a gentle sigh. And yet... there was still something.

"Actually," she countered rather darkly. "What I kept telling you last time was that you'd done nothing wrong." Her melancholy gaze fixed at the open doorway without really seeing it, her heavy memories drawing her elsewhere.

Startled by this correction, John shot up in the bed as though ready to charge, effectively bringing Anna back to the present moment.

Giving an apologetic look as she scooted closer to John and pressed a hand to his chest to reassure him, she said, "What I mean is, I'm not lying to you." She reached for his hands. "Nothing's happened," she repeated with a slow sincerity.

"Well then..." He shrugged helplessly. "There is only one way to have a child," he stated obviously.

Realizing she hadn't been able to gracefully dance John away from the subject the way she'd done on his many previous attempts, Anna looked suddenly vulnerable at finally being caught out. She withdrew her hands and curled her legs around her, enclosing herself as a guilty cloud darkened her face and weighted her entire frame.

"Tell me," he pleaded, his heart quickening into a renewed alarm and eyes squinting concern.

Anna allowed a tense, unmoving silence to pass. "What if I can't?" she whispered, keeping her firm chin high as her eyes stonily fixed on the far wall.

"What could you possibly not be able to tell me?" He was imagining horrible things again.

"No, that's not – I mean... what if I can't have a baby?" Her resolve was faltering. She tried to fight it, but her gaze dropped to her knees hidden beneath her nightdress as she confessed. "What if... all those years ago... I got damaged somehow?" Despite her strongest efforts to contain them, hot, embarrassed tears began their escape, recruiting long-oppressed reinforcements and steadily building themselves into a huge, rogue army fighting its way to freedom.

The released burden flew savagely at John with immeasurable force. He reeled as the very weight of it settled itself on his heart, and he wondered how on Earth she'd managed to keep such a beast contained all this time. With the agility of a man much more lithe than himself, John ambled across the bed and enveloped his wife, silently allowing her to finish emptying herself of the damaging fears.

"Wouldn't it be better to give up the hope and move forward rather than have me let us down?" she reasoned shakily.

John didn't answer right away. Instead he ran his fingers through Anna's hair, picking the damp strands from her neck and gathering the flowing wave of honey gently behind her shoulder. It was usually he who needed these sorts of reassurances.

"We will not give up the hope," he said resolutely. "But we will part with any expectations for an event beyond our control and recognize that we are so very blessed either way."

But neither Anna's tears or her worries had subsided, and she looked no less defeated.

"We are not unfulfilled," he continued. "Our love is complete with or without a child, and it can only grow stronger."

"But..." she took in a staggered breath, struggling with whether it was right voice her worldly desires. "I want the skinned knees to bandage and the hair to plait. I want to sing my baby to sleep in my arms and teach her to call me Mummy. I want to sponge her fevered forehead and teach her to read and see her face when she comes home and tells me she's fallen in love." The longing had turned her voice into a lilting ballad, the kind his mother had hummed. "Is that so selfish?" she finished in a guilty whisper, clasping her hands to her chest.

"Of course it's not selfish. But it certainly doesn't mean there's something wrong with you – or me for that matter because it could just as easily be me – if we never have those things."

Still horribly embarrassed at having allowed her wall to crumble and reveal such covetous thoughts, Anna found herself unable to speak. Instead, she reached for one of John's hands, clinging desperately to it as though that might help absolve her of the sin.

"You are nothing less – we are nothing less – without a baby. All we can do is keep trying," he began rubbing her arms. "And even if nothing ever comes of it, we'll have had a lot of fun in the meanwhile," he whispered into her ear, hoping she'd laugh. "But we've got to take your mind off it. A watched pot never boils."

* * *

"How are you finding the hospital?" Thomas asked as he took a few tentative steps toward the desk where Edward was seated. He'd dared to pay the chap a visit and was deeply relieved to find that it hadn't been unwelcome.

"Oh it's lovely," Edward said gratefully as he finished sealing the letter he'd been composing. "I couldn't have asked for a better placement."

"And how long will it last?" Thomas was careful make the question sound offhand while he inched delicately closer as Edward addressed his envelope.

"Actually, I hope to be taken on afterward. Dr. Clarkson and I have discussed it, and we both feel it would help make things at the hospital more seamless when he retires."

Thomas, who was now close enough to the desk to feel the warmth streaming through the window behind it, waited for Edward to finish his task before continuing his questions. It was important that the rest of the conversation be communicated very carefully.

"Have you met anyone interesting at the hospital? Some nice nurses perhaps?" Thomas looked down on the gardens nonchalantly, feeling Edward's rapt attention burning into him.

Edward seemed to realize he was holding his breath and gave a nervous laugh. "I'm afraid I'm far too busy to be fraternizing with the nurses." He rose quickly from his chair, turning the letter over in his hands as he began to pace the room. "Besides, nurses aren't really my interest."

"No?" Thomas said with mock confusion. "Perhaps secretaries then? Shop attendants? I hope it's not housemaids you prefer because I'm afraid ours have mostly gone," he teased.

"No." Edward, remaining starkly serious against the playful tones, joined Thomas at the window, gazing down at the illuminated landscape glowing gold as the sun began its ascent. "I'm afraid my preferences are quite different."

* * *

A/N I've noticed in the show that John seems to be the one wanting children while Anna is a bit more "all in God's hands." I've always wondered if Anna is really that content because she's so in love and appreciative of what she has or if she's got some worries about having children and is only pretending she doesn't mind if it never happens and keeping a brave face.


	12. Chapter 12

"This is the second time this month you lot have taken my job from me! Just what are you trying to do!?" Mrs. Patmore grumbled as Miss Baxter smugly settled her into one of the groaning kitchen chairs.

"You may want to put your polite face on," Daisy teased as she arranged the bread and vegetables neatly on the small round table. "We've got company," she chimed mischievously as she hurried away.

"Oh we do, do we? And who might this honoured guest be?" But before anyone had the chance to reply, Daisy had reappeared, her hand hooked in the elbow of a slightly aged, twinkling-eyed, warm-smiled man who was somewhat bashfully and absentmindedly twirling his hat in his hands. Mrs. Patmore, suddenly rendered speechless, puffed up and reddened with embarrassment as Daisy directed Mr. Mason to the seat next to her. Why had the daft girl not _warned_ her? She'd have put on her better frock! Or at least removed her apron! And that simple Daisy knew good and well she hadn't a polite face or anything resembling something of the sort! _Ah well, such is life,_ she accepted hopelessly with a quiet sigh.

The graying pair stole shy, silent glances at each other while Mr. Molesley, Miss Baxter, and Daisy took their seats - each trying to suppress their knowing grins.

"I thought Mr. Mason should see Downton before we left," Daisy said lightly.

"Quite right," agreed Mrs. Patmore breathlessly. "But you should've let me do the work." _She should've let me do the showing off._

"It was good of you to make us lunch, Daisy. It looks lovely," Miss Baxter complimented.

"If I may say, Mrs. Patmore, it's a real treat to see you again. I've been hearing so many wonderful things about you from our Daisy."

_Our Daisy_, Mrs. Patmore, who'd been appraising the spread Daisy had made, was taken aback. But the words were truth, weren't they? They were the closest thing to a mother and father Daisy had ever known. How odd it suddenly seemed that they'd never acknowledged this before, that neither had taken the notion to write and let the other know how their lass was doing.

"I've heard similarly wonderful things about you, Mr. Mason. I only wish we could've met again sooner. It's been too long," she finished with a sad sincerity. She was seeing the warm, content man in a new light, and suddenly a heavy longing of all the happy, laughter and love filled years that might've been consumed her.

"We've made our Daisy into quite the young lady, wouldn't you say?" Mr. Mason beamed with pride at Daisy, who was still smiling knowingly and smugly at the thought of concocting and pulling off her first sneaky plan as she passed the beans to Miss Baxter.

Mrs. Patmore looked at her grown girl. She could remember when the daft child had been afraid of electricity. Yet, she'd been the one to master the electric mixer. Daisy had never been afraid of a risk. Perhaps she should take a leaf from that book. Perhaps… Perhaps she hadn't missed _everything_. Maybe she and Mr. Mason could still make a go of things, even at their age.

* * *

"What's all this?" Mary inquired happily as George led her by hand to the cottages, closely followed by Sybbie, Tom, Thomas, and the young Dr. Sutton.

"Sybbie's done up the roses. They're thriving under her care!" George announced with pride. "All the cleaning and painting is hers too," he beamed.

Sybbie blushed. "Roses and painting are nothing. It's George that's done all the carpentry."

Astonished looks shot from around the small gathered group. Had the young teen cousins really accomplished all that?

"How?! When?! I'm speechless!" Tom began in bewilderment, gazing at his daughter in wonder.

"My sentiments exactly," breathed Mary.

"But you're pleased, aren't you?" Sybbie asked warily.

"Pleased? I couldn't have done it better myself!" Tom admired.

"We did have help," Sybbie admitted, launching into the full story of finding the appropriate books, visiting the tenants for advice while the family were away auctioning their possessions, and working under the supervision of Thomas and Dr. Sutton.

"All the supplies were already in the shed. We haven't spent any money," Sybbie assured hurriedly.

Mary and Tom exchanged an uncomfortable look, guilty about how concerned their children were with the finances. Yet, they weren't so much children anymore. They'd proved that. Perhaps it was time they were included in larger matters.

"We ensured their safety, M'Lady," Thomas interjected, giving a small smile at the success of their secret project. "It's ready to rent whenever you are."

"But... What on Earth inspired you to do it?" Mary looked from George to Sybbie with incredulity.

"We felt we didn't want to be useless any longer," Sybbie shrugged. "So we decided we wouldn't be." She bubbled with excitement, her heart warming as she smiled to herself, remembering Anna's words about her mother. "Would you like to see the inside?

* * *

**1 YEAR LATER...**

"You shouldn't be lifting that! Put it down this instant!" John called to his wife with quiet alarm.

"It's only a stack of sheets," Anna countered with a smile. "In just a couple of months I'll be too large to help, and I intend to make myself useful until then."

"You will not! Not while I'm around!" Daisy took the linens from Anna and shooed her to a seat behind the counter while she popped upstairs to put them away, stopping to greet the frail, dirty, and somewhat frightened woman who'd gingerly closed the door to the Leaning Lion behind her.

"Hello, Miss. Will it be food or lodging for you?" Daisy asked as the tinkling of the bell above the door echoed into silence.

"Neither, I'm afraid. I was looking for... Anna?" Her desperate eyes filled with a hopeful longing at the sight of the familiar honey hair and soft face perched behind the counter. Would Anna never age?

Anna rose quickly, hardly believing that after all these years and under all those layers of muck and desolation it could truly be... _her sister_.

* * *

**A/N I'm thinking I'll end the fic here. I started it before S5 aired, and there's so much from the last two years I'd like to have included - for instance Andy didn't even exist yet. I had some interesting stories planned for after they're up and running and especially with the sister, which I might return to, but I'll just mark this ended for now I guess. Maybe I'll start another with the actual running of the inn - which would be the story you all actually came here for. (Yeah… sorry about that…) Or does anyone even want to read that? Anyway, thanks for reading : )**


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